


Dictionary

by watanuki_sama



Category: Psych
Genre: Drabbles, M/M, alphabet soup, non-linear, season 1/2 characterization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:44:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watanuki_sama/pseuds/watanuki_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LOVE is spelled with twenty-six words. Shassie. Drabble collection. Oneshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dictionary

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on ff.net under the penname 'EFAW' on 07.12.13.
> 
>  
> 
> I wrote this for my darling Pinky Magica on Gaia, because I promised her a Shassie fic a long time ago…and never wrote it. Until now.
> 
> This one’s for you, dear.

_**Anniversary**_  
After ten years, they’re still together, though no one could say why. Somehow, it works, even though they bicker like crazy and still have fights where they storm away and swear it’s all over for good. But they always gravitate back to one another. Carlton soothes Shawn’s wanderlust; Shawn mellows Carlton’s temper. Ten years, and Carlton has a little more salt than pepper in his hair, and Shawn has a few more lines around his eyes, but the fundamentals haven’t changed.

In the end, they balance each other out, and they make each other happy, and that’s more than enough.

_**Bargain**_  
Carlton doesn’t want a puppy. They’re messy, loud, and neither of them is home enough to take care of a dog. Shawn refuses to get a plant; they’re boring and don’t _do_ anything except sit there and die when they aren’t watered. But both of them agree they want to take care of something together, they want to nurture it and watch it grow as their relationship does.

(Neither of them discuss the possibility of children; neither of them is ready for that.)

But relationships are about compromise, so they get a few colorful fish and call it a start.

_**Confession**_  
“I’m not psychic,” Shawn announces, apropos of nothing.

Carlton stirs beside him. “What?”

Since Carlton hasn’t immediately launched into violence, Shawn considers his decision to tell the truth during the afterglow a win. Sexed-up Lassie is mellow Lassie. “I’m not psychic,” he repeats to the ceiling.

He can almost hear Carlton’s brain whirring.

“And?”

“And?” Shawn rolls over. “You’re not mad?”

Carlton blinks and yawns. “Shawn, I’ve never believed you’re psychic. In the morning you can tell me everything. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

Shawn grins and snuggles close. Unexpected, but really, it could have gone much worse.

_**Decisive**_  
“Are you sure about this, Carlton?” Chief Vick asks. “This is…a big step.”

Carlton’s not sure, not completely. But it’s been almost two years, they’re in a fairly stable relationship, and Shawn hangs his motorcycle keys up in Carlton’s house and stores pineapple in Carlton’s fruit basket. Shawn hasn’t left, and he’s said he doesn’t want to, not anymore. Carlton wants to show that he has faith in this relationship, too, that he believes Shawn will be there if he’s called.

“I’m sure,” she says, and Vick nods. Unflinchingly, Carlton signs the papers that make Shawn his medical emergency contact.

_**Effort**_  
Carlton knows how to cook. He’s not a master chef, but he can get by. It was either learn or get fat on a bachelor’s diet after Victoria left.

Shawn does not know how to cook. Shawn has not, in fact, ever grown out of his childish love of fast and/or junk food. As far as Carlton knows, Shawn isn’t even sure what a stove is used for.

But Shawn tries, and the fact that he’s trying to cook for their ten-month anniversary is enough to make Carlton forgive all the smoke and the fire trucks hosing down his kitchen.

_**First**_  
The first time they sleep together, they’re drunk. A bad day that starts with a child murder ends with drinks at Tom Blair’s pub, because misery loves company. By the time they’ve lost count of the shots downed, Shawn is slumped against Carlton’s side and Carlton’s arm is around Shawn’s shoulders.

They fumble their way to a cab, then fumble their way to Carlton’s place, and it seems perfectly natural to fumble their way to bed.

In the morning, Carlton hides in the bathroom while Shawn slips out the side door. They don’t meet each other’s eyes for three days.

_**Gone**_  
When Carlton comes home, the house is dark, and he knows. 

_He left me_ , he thinks, and he curls on the couch with a bottle of scotch. _He left me and I don’t think he’s coming back_. He’d expected it, part of him, because Shawn always ran from what was important, but Carlton had gotten complacent, let his guard down. Thought Shawn was finally starting to settle. Now he wonders what he did wrong (it’s always his fault his relationships end, he knows that, this is no different) and how he can possibly make it right if Shawn isn’t here.

_**Homeward**_  
Shawn is two days out when he turns his bike around. He wants to run, but he doesn’t want to leave. He wants to crawl into bed at night and hold Carlton tight. He wants to put his feet up on the coffee table and watch Carlton’s nose crinkle in annoyance. For the first time in his life he wants to stay in one place because it feels safer than moving around. He doesn’t know how this will work out, but right now, he wants…

The house is dark when he steps inside. _Breathe_.

“Lassie…I’m home.”

Yeah. He wants this.

_**In-Law**_  
Carlton likes Henry. He’s alright to work with, he knows how to handle Shawn’s antics, and he’s a great fishing buddy. Carlton is pretty sure Henry likes him well enough too.

The entire equation changes when he’s dating the man’s son.

Dinner is a tense, awkward affair that’s made no better by Shawn’s attempts at levity. Things come to a head when Shawn leaves to get dessert and Henry leans forward. 

“If you hurt him, they’ll never find the body.”

Carlton sees the permission for what it is and nods.

He can only hope brunch with mother goes so well.

_**Junction**_  
There comes a point where Shawn knows he has to make a choice. They’ve been sleeping together for months and dancing around this thing for years, and one of them has to make a move before it stagnates and dies a messy death. Shawn knows Carlton won’t take the leap; he’s too afraid that pushing even a little will make Shawn pack up and run, so he’s willing to do whatever Shawn wants without asking for more. The choice is up to Shawn, and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never wanted anything like this, and it scares him.

_**Kinesthetic**_  
Shawn’s body knows it before his mind does. It’s all there, in touches on pale skin, the constant need for attention from him, the urge to do whatever it takes to get him to smile, the warmth that flows when that husky voice raises in anger( _passion_ ). It’s in tongues and teeth fighting, in hands clasping and pulling, in movement and heat and sound and fire that runs through both of them and consumes. It’s movements his body knows but his mind has never understood…until now.

Long before his mind understands, Shawn’s body knows just how much he cares for Carlton.

_**Light**_  
Even now, Carlton isn’t used to Shawn’s disappearing acts. At first, he’d drink himself into a stupor, thinking Shawn had left him for good. Then he called Henry and Guster, who said it was perfectly natural. “ _Shawn always comes back_ ,” Guster said, but it took a long time for Carlton to believe it.

Now, he’s not used to it, but he knows it’s going to happen no matter what. When Shawn needs space, he goes. Carlton has learned to keep a light on and wait for him to return. It’s all he can do.

They’re right. He always comes back.

_**Melt**_  
If Carlton is ice, then Shawn is fire, burning bright and strong and passionate, leaving chaos and destruction in his wake. Carlton, who feels cold and empty most of the time, can admit to being attracted to the younger man’s blaze. If he could only take some of that warmth and heat for himself…

But he stays away, because if ice gets too close to the fire, it starts to melt, dripping into the flames and evaporating into air, drop by drop, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.

When Carlton gets too close to Shawn, he starts to melt.

_**(Nick)Name**_  
Shawn never calls him ‘Carlton’ at work, even though they’re sleeping together and are kind of totally in a relationship and pretty much everyone knows. It’s always ‘Lassie’ or ‘Lassafrass’ or ‘Carlytown’ or ‘Huggie bear’. It’s not that he doesn’t care; he does. Shawn doesn’t call him ‘Carlton’ for the same reason that Carlton never uses ‘Shawn’ unless he’s worried about Shawn or pissed off. ‘Shawn’ and ‘Carlton’ are special, used when they’re alone with each other, affirming each other with hands and teeth and tongue and quietly proclaiming their love with whispered breaths and a few simple, meaningful syllables. 

_**Ocean**_  
Carlton is predictable. Shawn thinks he’ll get bored of Carlton in a week and move on.

But Carlton isn’t predictable, he’s the ocean. Shawn works his way past the surface to find that the deeper he dives, the more interesting things get. And at the bottom is a locked treasure chest full of the most amazing, self-sacrificing love Shawn has ever seen. If he’s lucky, if he can get past his own fears, he may even get a key.

Shawn likes puzzles. He could probably swim in the mysterious waters of Carlton Lassiter for a long time and be content.

_**Peacekeeper**_  
Shawn snorts awake to see Gus standing over him, a pineapple smoothie in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. Shawn knows the coffee has the right number of creams and sugars, and he both hates and loves Gus for being so efficient. 

“Had another fight with Lassie?” Gus asks, not sounding sympathetic at all.

“Mmgflmphb,” Shawn replies, because it’s only like ten, it’s much too early to be up.

Gus rolls his eyes and shoves both cups at him. “Go make up with him or you’ll both be insufferable.”

Shawn chuckles a little when Gus walks away.

_**Quitting**_  
“We’re done,” he’d said earlier, and now all Shawn wants to do is take it all back. But he’d walked away, he can’t go back _now_ , after all these hours have passed. Carlton won’t even want to look at him anymore, Shawn’s certain.

Except Carlton is waiting outside of his apartment, and the first thing he says is, “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. I’m not just giving up.”

Shawn smiles through blurry eyes. “You just can’t quit me, can you Lassie?”

Carlton growls and pulls him in for a kiss. “Shut up, Shawn.”

_**Rough**_  
Their first kiss is not kind. Kindness comes later, once they’ve talked and made peace with their insecurities and come to understand that this thing between them will last. No, their first kiss is rough, pressed up against a wall, tongues fighting for dominance, hands grasping and clutching hard enough to leave bruises, years of pent up tension loosing itself in the shadowed corners. It’s jealous frustration and reluctant admiration warring with forced levity and a need for attention, looking not yet for balance, but release from everything weighing them down and, for a moment, finding it in each other.

_**Separation**_  
The first time Carlton and Shawn break up, Carlton comes to work in a lousy mood. He makes McNabb cry and he discharges an entire clip of ammunition in the field. The chief sends him home for a few days to cool his head.

The ninth time they break up, he explodes three times in an hour and spends an hour on the firing range.

The twentieth or so time (she’s lost count) Juliet brings Carlton his coffee and offers to do his paperwork. Might as well keep him in a decent mood until he and Shawn make up again.

_**Toothbrush**_  
Shawn realizes he’s moved in when he’s brushing his teeth with _his_ toothbrush while looking through _his_ drawer for a pair of clean boxers. It hits him like a bomb, freezing him with his underwear in his hands, toothbrush tumbling from his mouth. He’s not visiting, he’s not coming over, he has _moved in_ , and as he looks around he sees half of the stuff in the bedroom is his, and knows there’s more in the rest of the house.

It terrifies him, and he’s on his bike speeding away within the half hour, gone long before Carlton gets home.

_**Unspoken**_  
They don’t ever use the ‘l’ word. Carlton is too broken by his ex-wife’s rejection, too torn up by his own insecurities; Shawn is too commitment-phobic to handle it, and he’d run if something like love ever entered the conversation.

But it’s there, in gentle touches and soft glances, the protective instinct that comes to bear when Shawn is in danger, the coffee Shawn brings to the station every day. It’s in the smile on Carlton’s face and the fact that Shawn continues to stay.

Neither of them ever say the word ‘love’, but it’s there for everyone to see.

_**Volatile**_  
Shawn and Carlton are both unstable people. They get by, and on the surface they seem moderately well-adjusted, but they’re not. They’re powder kegs of hidden insecurities and deep resentments, and all it takes is one spark, one underhanded blow that strikes at buried weaknesses, and the fallout will leave behind two ruined men and an irreparable relationship.

It takes years before Gus and Juliet can watch them together with anything less than trepidation, because they know these two men best of all, they know the damage that can be wrought, and neither of them want to watch that happen.

_**Wake**_  
Carlton has only left once, called away on a case in the wee hours of the morning. The other dozen or so times they’ve fallen into bed together, Shawn leaves first, sneaking out while Carlton sleeps.

It’s different this morning. Carlton wakes to soft humming, and his heart thuds even as he bites his hope down. It can’t be…

But it is. Shawn is still here, twiddling his thumbs, leg twitching with the effort to just _stay_. He smiles uncertainly at Carlton when he sees him looking.

That’s the first moment Carlton believes this thing between them might actually last.

_**Xenon**_  
Carlton doesn’t approve of PDA. Shawn disapproves of the disapproval.

“I care about you,” Shawn says. “And I want everyone to know I care about you. I want to shout it in the middle of the precinct and write it in purple xenon until all of Santa Barbara knows.”

Carlton huffs a laugh. “Don’t you mean _neon_?”

“I’ve heard it both ways.”

“You have _not_ ,” Carlton growls good-naturedly, which prompts a childish wrestling match that ends with a heavy make-out session on the couch and Carlton thinking that maybe he’ll let Shawn hold his hand in public tomorrow. Baby steps.

_**Yearning**_  
 _[I had bananas for breakfast]_ Shawn texts, hours after Carlton’s woken up and had his morning coffee.

_[Crime scene. Gus threw up.]_ Carlton gets, halfway through the panel on police dogs. 

_[Easy case. Husband did it. Boooring.]_ comes an hour later. Carlton has to hide a smile.

_[TAAACOOOS!!!]_ arrives while Carlton is enjoying the best San Francisco Burger King has to offer.

_[New Tetris champ!]_ is waiting after he gets out of the shower.

_[Slumber party at Gus’s]_ shows up as he’s climbing into bed.

Carlton picks up his phone and sends one text back.

_[I miss you too, Shawn.]_

_**Zebras**_  
They’ve been sleeping together for three months and starting to actually _talk_ about important things, and Shawn’s the one who said they should try this thing out in public, just to see how it goes. So they go to the zoo.

It’s childish but fun. Carlton is fascinated by the zebras. Shawn laces their fingers and asks, “Whatcha thinking about?”

“Zebras,” Carlton answers, studying them. “Are they white with black stripes, or black with white stripes?”

“Does it matter?” Shawn asks, nuzzling his shoulder. “They are what they are.”

Carlton chuckles and thinks that explains a lot. “Yeah, they are.”

**Author's Note:**

> I swear the word count was 2626 on my Word doc, so they are real drabbles no matter what the count says here. XDD
> 
> Happy birthday darling.


End file.
